


take a number

by ohvictor



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Request Meme, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-03-29 21:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13935456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohvictor/pseuds/ohvictor
Summary: A collection of request fills based on a prompt list posted on twitter.1) chiakuro - bf jacket2) wata+rei - "What happened doesn't change anything."3) izuritsu - "Does that hurt?"4) ritsumao - "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere."5) adokoga - sunburn6) natsumika - stargazing7) watarei - lying on top of (+ blood drinking)





	1. chiakuro

**Author's Note:**

> what it says on the tin. i've got a handful of these left to finish, but it seemed silly to sit on the finished ones in the meantime, so here's what i've got so far.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chiakuro - "one giving the other their jacket and not getting it back from the other until it stops smelling like them"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for sin. enjoy these warm chiakuros!

Morisawa’s nose is bright red from the cold. He holds his hands over his face, breathing heat onto his palms as if that will absolve him of not having brought a jacket _or_ gloves _or_ a scarf. It’s very cute, but also hard to watch, and before Kuro can think twice, he’s unzipping his own jacket and taking it off.

Morisawa’s gaze flicks up to Kuro’s face as Kuro swings the jacket off his own shoulders and, in the same movement, around Morisawa’s. The rest of Morisawa’s face is slowly coloring to match his nose, so Kuro thinks it’s good that he gave him the jacket, even if Kuro himself is colder now. Morisawa’s health matters more, he thinks, what with Morisawa’s blood pressure, and all his nights of too little sleep, and the ridiculous stunts he does. It’s clearly most important to keep Morisawa from getting a cold.

Morisawa tugs the jacket closer around himself, his face nestling into the collar. The sleeves are too long for him, and his fingers poke out of the cuffs as he raises his hand to his face, rubbing at his cheeks as if to warm them.

“W-What is this for?” he stammers.

“You’re cold,” Kuro tells him. "Think you need it more than I do.”

So Morisawa keeps the jacket.

Kuro doesn’t think anything of it, at first. He has other jackets at home, and even though that one was a favorite, he feels good knowing it’s keeping Morisawa warm. He doesn’t see Morisawa for a few days, what with them being in different classes, but Morisawa is an honorable guy, so Kuro’s sure he’ll receive his jacket back in perfect condition by at least the end of the week.

But Friday comes, and passes, and the weekend passes too, and on Monday, Kuro spots Morisawa leaving the main building, probably bound for the gym, and he’s just wearing his uniform. No jacket, Kuro’s or anyone else’s, in sight.

It’s a surprise, but more than that, it’s worrying. What if Morisawa catches a cold? What if he’s already caught one, and doesn’t want to get Kuro’s jacket all germy? That seems like the sort of honorable, selfless thought process Morisawa would have, never wanting to rely on others even at his own expense. Kuro knows.

Nevertheless, it’s too cold out to not have a jacket, so Kuro jogs after Morisawa to catch up with him, shoes crunching on fresh snow from the night before. “Hey,” he says, falling into step at Morisawa’s side. Morisawa squawks.

“Kiryu! Hello!”

_Cute_ , Kuro thinks, apropos of nothing. “You don’t have a jacket,” he informs Morisawa, as if he doesn’t know. “Did ya forget mine at home?”

“Oh!” Morisawa’s face is going red, probably from the cold again. He raises his hands to his cheeks and pats them gently. “Ah... Yes, I left it at home! I’m sorry, Kiryu!” He takes notice of Kuro’s jacket, and reaches out to feel the sleeve, as if confirming it’s there. His fingertips look frozen as they pat the thick fabric. “Good, you have another jacket...”

“Yeah, so you can just wear mine and not worry,” Kuro tells him.

“Yeah!” Morisawa nods firmly. “It’s at home, on my bed! So don’t worry!”

“I didn’t lend you my jacket for it to sit on your bed,” Kuro huffs. He sticks his hands in his pockets, frowning thoughtfully down at Morisawa. Is he missing something here? “If your bed’s that cold, I can lend ya a blanket, or make ya one, if you want.”

Morisawa holds his hands up quickly. “No! It’s fine, I have blankets!”

“Then why...” Kuro sighs. “I’m not that smart, so maybe I’m just not gettin’ it.”

“No, no, it’s...” Morisawa’s cheeks are flushing deeper, even as he puts his hands over them as if to hide it. “Ah... Kiryu, it’s because it’s _your_ jacket...”

Kuro blinks. “Huh?”

Morisawa’s hands cover his whole face now, muffling his voice as he speaks directly into his palms. “It’s because... It smells like you, so I...”

Something in Kuro’s chest goes off, like a tiny firework, as everything clicks.

“You’re sleepin’ with my jacket?”

“Augh!” Morisawa abandons his attempts to hide his face and shoves at Kuro’s side with both hands. “It’s _extra_ embarrassing if you say it like that!”

Looking at him like this, flustered and clearly blushing, Kuro now realizes, because of _him_ , all Kuro can think is, _Cute!_ He takes a breath, and then takes Morisawa’s hands. Morisawa stares up at Kuro, too startled to react.

“If ya want something that smells like me, invite _me_ over, silly. I’m more worried about you keepin’ warm, so wear the jacket, okay?”

“Yes,” Morisawa mumbles, his hands curling into Kuro’s, fitting in his palms.


	2. wata+rei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wata+rei - "What happened doesn't change anything".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for wabby. i will write you happier watareis... soon...

After the live, in the wake of everything that happened - Natsume crumpled in his seat, sobbing, Shu’s lips pressed tight together, Kanata’s gaze too distant to be true - Rei searches for Wataru. Yumenosaki is dark, the air in the dim halls heavy and oppressive as if it knows what happened within these walls just hours ago. Rei’s footsteps don’t echo even as their shoes tap against the tile floor. It’s not a long walk between the live stage and the student theater, but Rei is already exhausted when they start out, and it only gets worse as they go.

None of the others had offered to accompany them, which is all right. Rei doesn’t know if Wataru would want to face any of the others. Nor do they think the others are ready to face Wataru. They might want to, to cling to him and beg him to undo what he’d chosen to do, to shake him and demand answers. And Wataru could paste on a smile for them, summon up some band-aid words, swipe away Natsume’s tears with his thumb, produce flowers from his empty palms. He could try. He might make them smile.

But Rei doesn’t want to see anything like that. So they go alone.

The theater is empty at first glance, rows and rows of seats half-sunken in darkness before the wide stretch of empty stage. Rei makes their way down the aisle, and they’re resigning themself to searching the backstage when, behind them, someone clears their throat.

Rei spins on their heel. A stray beam of light from the hallway points directly to one seat on the stage right side of the gallery. Like poetry, like magic, there is Wataru, sitting with his legs crossed, hair a cascade over his shoulders. He is still wearing his costume from the live, beautiful, crisp fabric that had seemed to restrain his movements as he danced, and no mask, just his bare face, expression blown open and yet revealing nothing.

“Rei,” he says, his quiet voice carrying across the empty theater. It’s an invitation, or at least, it’s not a dismissal. Rei walks back a few rows of seats and weaves down the aisle, and plops down next to Wataru.

They kick their feet up onto the seat in front of them and slouch in their chair. Wataru’s posture relaxes as he watches Rei make themself at home, though his eyes remain wary.

“The others’re headin’ out, I think,” Rei tells Wataru. He won’t ask for an update himself, Rei knows. “Shu’s taking care of Natsume, so don’t worry. ‘S gonna be rough for a while. Well, prob’ly the roughest for you, though.”

Wataru inclines his head. Rei suddenly gets the sense that if Wataru spoke, he might start crying. His lips aren’t pursed tight like Shu’s get when he’s trying not to cry, but his gaze looks far away, and his jaw is set. They’re in the theater, but Wataru doesn’t look like he’s wearing a mask.

“Kanata’s okay too. Even if he’s not, he’s got that kid and all his fish and stuff.” Rei stretches their arms back behind them, fighting a yawn. Their body isn’t as strong as it used to be; this is becoming more apparent every day.

“What about you?” Wataru asks.

“I’m good.” Wataru turns to face Rei at that, his eyes scanning Rei’s face, so Rei amends, “Well, far from good. But, y’know.”

“You can be whatever you want,” Wataru says. His voice sounds far away. Rei wants to believe it’s the theater, vast enough to swallow sound, and not time, prying greedy fingers in between them. “If you’re not okay, you don’t have to pretend to be for my sake. I can shoulder that pain, too.”

“That’s not your job, though,” Rei says. They keep their tone as neutral as they can; they’re not here to argue, won’t have their last conversation with this Wataru become a fight. “It’s me who takes on pain, ‘member?”

“Alas, it is both of our burden, then,” Wataru says. “I assume that’s why you’re here with me, after taking care of the others.”

“I’m always guilty of a little too much meddling,” Rei says. Neither of them smile.

They lapse into silence, and Rei hates it. More than that, they think Wataru probably wants to change out of those stiff clothes and a few of his masks, and breathe, without anyone watching him. Rei supposes that includes them, now.

“I ought to leave you to it, then,” they sigh, and pat the armrest between them, unsure if Wataru wants to be touched. Wataru blinks. “You’ll know where to find me, though I figure you won’t, for a while.” They press their lips together in a weak homage to Shu, as the tangle of emotion in their chest swells up, trapped at the tip of their tongue. “What happened doesn’t change anything, you know that, yeah? You’re always gonna be one of us, ‘n we’ve got a place for you. You don’t even have to ask. Got it?”

Wataru’s lips part, and then, as if he doesn’t trust himself to speak, he nods.

“Good.” Rei stands, even as their legs ache in protest, and turns towards the door. “Take care, Wataru.”

“Take care, Rei,” Wataru whispers, his gaze stuck straight in front of him, staring at the empty stage.


	3. izuritsu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> izuritsu - "Does that hurt?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for emi. i hope i did your boys justice...........
> 
> warnings: light eating disorder implications including implied weight loss, and blood drinking. be careful!

Today’s Knights rehearsal isn’t the least productive it’s ever been, but it’s something like it. It seems like everyone is too distracted to focus; Izumi knows Naru’s got a big photoshoot coming up that she’s excited for, and Tsukasa has a test to study for and keeps sneaking out his textbooks between runs, and Leo isn’t even _there_ , although that’s not too uncommon even these days. Ritsu’s eyes are more alert than usual, but his movements are sluggish, so even if he wants to participate, he can’t.

Feeling merciful as the recording finishes and they all drop into rest positions, Izumi tells them all to take ten. He takes a sip of water and watches Tsukasa scramble for his textbook, promptly dripping sweat onto the pages, which is so gross Izumi has to look away. Meanwhile, Ritsu sags onto the floor, his breathing labored, so Izumi drops to a squat next to him and prods his arm.

“Kuma-kun.”

“Haaah.”

“Come run to my locker with me.”

Ritsu’s eyebrows raise, and he begins to peel himself off the floor. “Will you give me a present if I do?”

“Dumbass,” Izumi sighs, kicking at Ritsu’s leg until Ritsu lifts it off the floor.

“Stop,” he mumbles, finally getting to his feet. “I’m coming, okay?”

He follows Izumi out the door, and they get about halfway to Izumi’s locker before Izumi tugs Ritsu into the doorway of an empty classroom and kisses him.

Ritsu melts easily, barely keeping himself upright as he presses back against Izumi. His lips are plush and cool as usual, and Izumi can’t help but nip on them between quick kisses, missing the taste of Ritsu’s mouth. Ritsu’s arms curl around Izumi’s shoulders, which is nice until it turns into Ritsu hanging off of Izumi, and they end up swaying badly into the doorframe. Izumi bangs his shoulder on the metal, and he breaks away from Ritsu with a hiss of pain.

“Ooh, does that hurt,” Ritsu says, yawning.  

“Yes,” Izumi grumbles. “Can you be more awake now?”

“I’m hungryyyy,” Ritsu says. When Izumi gives him an unimpressed look, he repeats the words, this time adding more y’s.

“What am I supposed to do, huh?”

“You could give me a sip,” Ritsu says, pressing close to Izumi again, his arms snaking around Izumi’s waist this time. His mouth tightens briefly, and Izumi can practically hear him thinking, wondering if Izumi’s gotten _that_ much thinner, or if it’s just something about his clothes.

It’s possible that losing blood to Ritsu will bring his weight down, Izumi thinks. It seems like a bad reason to let a vampire chew on him, but he’s used flimsier excuses before, and if Ritsu perks up, maybe the other two will as well, which is what Izumi was banking on when he took Ritsu out of the room for a bit. Strategic kisses, for the sake of Knights, of course.

He sighs and tugs his collar down. “If you get blood on my clothes, I’ll kill you.”

“Whoa! Secchan’s the best,” Ritsu says, immediately leaning in. His nose and lips brush Izumi’s fingers where he’s holding his shirt aside, and Izumi shuts his eyes and braces for that flick of pain, like a needle going in, like a rubber band snapped against skin.

Ah-- There it is. Izumi can feel blood rushing to his chest and neck as Ritsu’s venom seeps into the wound, and he keeps his eyes shut as Ritsu’s lips and tongue move on him, lapping at the sweet blood welling up. Izumi focuses on Ritsu’s arms around him, waiting for his head to stop swimming - until Ritsu’s arms are tightening vicelike around him, keeping him upright. When Izumi opens his eyes, his vision blurs for a long moment before resolving itself.

“Can you _not_ almost faint when I’m drinking from you?” Ritsu tells him.

“I’m to~tally good,” Izumi says, blinking quickly. “Are you done being a leech?”

“I guess,” Ritsu says mournfully. Carefully, he leans in again and licks over the wounds on Izumi’s throat, just under where his collar can hide, to seal and clean them, and then pulls back, his red eyes bright with new energy. He reaches up and runs a hand through Izumi’s hair, and Izumi lets him for a moment before ducking away.

“Secchan’s hair is soft,” Ritsu murmurs. “As expected of a model.”

“It’s the softest ever,” Izumi says proudly.

“I don’t know about _that_.” Ritsu leans in and kisses Izumi gently on the lips. “Thanks.”

“Don’t get blood on my mouth, gross!”

“I didn’t,” Ritsu insists. “Don’t be a baby.” He turns and leads the way out of the dark classroom. “C’mon, put your collar back up. The others are probably missing us by now.”

“I doubt it,” Izumi sighs, but he reaches for Ritsu’s hand and allows Ritsu to pull him back down the hall.


	4. ritsumao

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ritsumao - "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere." (with mao saying it)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for chara. i tried to deliver the good copes i hope it is satisfying!!
> 
> warnings for some... heavy negative/jealous thoughts in this, if that's somethin that bothers people.

After lunch, spent lazing around on the garden terrace, Ritsu dozes through the second half of classes. This is normal, for him; the teacher doesn’t even call on him most days, and aside from Corgi sometimes, no one is loud enough or annoying enough to wake him.

When classes are over, Mao will wake him up and, depending on the day, he’ll be reminded of whatever after school activity he’s inevitably forgotten he has and affectionately shooed off in the direction of, perhaps, Knights rehearsal, or (less enjoyable) tea club. And Mao will go his own way to Trickstar rehearsal, with Secchan’s boy and the loud boy and the other one, or basketball club, with the even louder boy, and Ritsu won’t see him until evening, or sometimes even the next morning. Or sometimes Ritsu will have nothing to do, but Mao will have student council, so Mao will tell him to go ahead home.

Even those days are nice, because Mao still comes to wake Ritsu up, and Ritsu gets to hog Mao’s attention for a little while before Mao has to go off and spend his precious energy on highly annoying people like Himemiya and Ecchan.

Ritsu doesn’t remember his dreams from his afternoon nap, but when he wakes up, he can tell he’s slept longer than he should have. The sun peeking through the windows is too weak for early afternoon, and the classroom is empty, the lights dimmed. Ritsu lifts his head and rubs the sleep from his eyes, his arms heavy and unyielding. Perhaps he slept deeper than he thought. But Mao should have woken him up, even if he was stubborn.

He fumbles in his bag, fingers clumsy from sleep, for his phone - sure enough, it’s been two hours since classes finished. He swipes past the lockscreen and reveals a slew of messages from his unitmates wondering where he is. Even Naru, who’s in his class, seemed to not know where he was. Ritsu’s whole body hurts from slumping over a desk for hours, and his mood sours along with it. Why didn’t Maa-kun wake him up? Why didn’t anyone come and find him? How had everyone just left him in class, if he’d so clearly been exhausted?

A new notification pops up - Secchan, noticing Ritsu’s online. _There u are, where are u??_

Replying to something like that is more energy than Ritsu cares to expend on someone who clearly didn’t look for him that hard. Instead, he opens up his message log with Mao, even though there had been no notifs from him, just in case, but there’s nothing. The last messages are his own from when he’d told Mao goodnight late last night, full of sleepy emoticons and typos.

The phone buzzes with a new message from Secchan, but Ritsu ignores it. Instead, he types a message to Mao: _why didnt you wake me up_

And then he sets the phone down on his desk and lowers his head onto the smooth wood surface, and watches the screen.

Minutes pass by like sandpaper against Ritsu’s skin. If he’d missed Knights rehearsal, it means Mao is at Trickstar rehearsal. If he isn’t replying, he’s probably just busy dancing, or poring over choreography or lyrics, but instead Ritsu’s mind fills with images of Mao with his unitmates, his head thrown back as he laughs at a joke one of them made, something funnier than anything Ritsu could say, that makes Mao do that deep laugh Ritsu loves that comes up from his belly and sometimes makes him topple over onto his side. Or Mao with his arm slung around one of their shoulders, his head close to theirs as he reads lyrics off his phone screen, ignoring Ritsu’s texts as he does so. Ritsu’s stomach hurts the more he thinks about it, but the thoughts won’t stop coming, filling his head up with bad, bad things.

His arms hurt, and his chest hurts, and his eyes hurt, and everything is horrible. Maa-kun forgot about him, and everyone else forgot about him, and he’s not important to any of them. They sent him texts but they couldn’t be bothered to find him, even Secchan, even Naru. He’s always just being left behind. There’s no point in trying to be different. He’s been trying, or he thought he was, getting up for school and dragging himself to his club and his unit rehearsals and listening to everyone and _trying_ , so hard, and none of it matters, does it? What’s the point?

The sound of the door opening barely registers, and Ritsu’s eyes don’t leave his phone screen, even though it hurts to look at something so bright. Footsteps echo behind him, and in Ritsu’s blurred periphery, someone in Yumenosaki’s uniform colors plops down at the desk beside him.

“Hey,” says Mao.

Ritsu can’t think. All he knows is that hearing Mao’s voice makes something in him combust. He wants-- He wants to throw himself at Mao, to curl into his arms and let Mao pet his head and rub the aches away. But Mao left him, so would he even hold Ritsu? Does he even care? Pain blooms anew in Ritsu’s chest, making it hard to breathe. He puts his arms over his head, blocking his vision, and curls into himself, hunched over the desk. Like this, his back hurts even worse, but that’s what he deserves, isn’t it?

“Oh, don’t be mad,” Mao sighs. His voice is muffled now by Ritsu’s arms over his head. He sounds disappointed, and Ritsu thinks, _Good_ , as his chest aches with it.

He hears the shifting of fabric as Mao changes his position, sighing again. “Ritsu.”

Ritsu doesn’t move.

“Ritsu, will you look at me?”

 _Unlikely_ , Ritsu thinks. He wets his lips, thinking of what he could say, but only bitter, awful words fill his head.

But then, “Ritchan,” Mao says, and Ritsu’s head goes empty.

It’s awful. He’s awful. How can he be angry at Mao when Ritsu’s the one full of bad things?

Mao doesn’t wait for an answer this time. “I guess you’re not going to talk to me. But I came as soon as I got your text. I’m sorry I didn’t wake you up. We had gym last period today, ‘cause of a weird switch with one of the non-idol classes, and I left you so you could get rest, but the rest of Trickstar cornered me after class...”

It makes sense, and it explains why Naru never returned to the classroom. And it’s just like Mao to get caught up in pleasing his unitmates, and usually Ritsu would think it’s sweet, in a special Maa-kun way, but. The words ‘I left you’ stick in his head and loop again and again, and he curls tighter into himself, the edge of the desk digging into his belly.

“You can be mad at me if you want,” Mao says, and he sounds tired suddenly, like the words are being dragged out from inside him. “I should have told the guys to let me go back for you, but they seemed really excited and I...”

“Whatever,” Ritsu bites out.

Mao goes silent, which was what Ritsu had wanted, he thinks miserably. He can’t see Mao’s face, but he imagines it falling, and Mao’s shoulders slumping forward.

“I was thoughtless,” Mao says after a moment. “I should have come back for you. I wanted to, Ritchan.”

“It’s fine,” Ritsu mumbles. As if Mao can even hear him with his arms over his face. He turns his head away from Mao, no longer muffling his face. “It’s fine. Your unit is more important, right?”

“No,” Mao starts.

“It’s fine!” Ritsu repeats. His voice sounds tight even in his own ears, the words ripped out of his chest. “It’s fine! Just go! You didn’t even have to come back! I know you didn’t want to!”

“That’s not true,” Mao cuts him off. He puts his hand carefully on Ritsu’s shoulder, a sudden warmth that Ritsu can feel even through his uniform, and he feels like he can’t breathe. “I’m right here, okay? I came back for you. And I’m not going anywhere. I know I messed up, and I’m really sorry.”

Ritsu doesn’t trust himself to speak. He doesn’t trust himself to move. Mao waits for a long moment, and then says, “Will you look at me?”

Slowly, Ritsu lifts his head off the desk. His spine protests as he uncurls himself, ducking his head to avoid Mao’s eyes.

For some reason, even though Ritsu’s only been bitter and unkind since Mao came into the room, Mao stands up and approaches Ritsu, and slips his arms around Ritsu’s shoulders, pulling him close. Ritsu’s face bumps against Mao’s chest, and he’s overwhelmed by the smell of him, safe and familiar and warm, his Maa-kun, holding him, petting his hair.

His chest feels impossibly tight, like he’s going to do explode, or something else stupid like bawl into Maa-kun’s blazer. He settles for smushing his face into Mao’s chest and wrapping his arms around Mao’s midsection, hugging him as close as he can.

“There’s my Ritchan,” Mao murmurs, as Ritsu relaxes, bit by bit, into the hug.

“You don’t have to do this,” Ritsu mumbles into Mao’s shirt.

“But I want to,” Mao says. He keeps petting Ritsu’s hair, threading his fingers slowly through the black strands. “I always want to come back for you. I love you, Ritchan, so I’ll always come back, even if it takes me a while. You know that, right?”

Ritsu’s throat is dangerously tight, and he doesn’t trust himself to talk, so he just nods, nuzzling his face into Mao’s shirt. Mao sighs, a tiny, affectionate huff, and holds Ritsu close, safe and secure.


	5. adokoga

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> adokoga - "please adokoga where koga gets sunburned and adonis slathers him with aloe vera"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for kai! thank you!!

“I don’t need any of that,” Oogami says loudly, shoving at Adonis’ hands as Adonis offers the bottle of sunblock a second time. “We’re gonna be in the water, so the sun won’t get us!”

“I don’t think it works like that,” Adonis says, holding out the bottle one more time. “It would be good if you--”

“I told ya I don’t need it!” Oogami, unbelievably, makes two fists and flexes his arms, showing off what, to him, passes as muscles. “My skin’s just fine!”

He throws his towel down on the sand next to the cooler of drinks, and gets to his feet clumsily. “Let’s get in the water already!”

Adonis looks over at Sakuma, who’s managed to curl his entire body underneath the umbrella. Sakuma just shrugs.

“Sure,” Adonis sighs, and hurries after Oogami, catching up with him finally at the water’s edge.

The rest of the afternoon is spent splashing in the waves. In the end Sakuma never joins them, and Hakaze returns only once to grab his towel, his surfboard tucked under one arm and the other arm slung around the shoulders of a girl none of them recognize.

As they’re packing up for the evening, Sakuma fixes his gaze on Oogami and says, “You look a little red, puppy.”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” Oogami says automatically. He picks up a handful of sandy towels, wincing as the coarse fabric folds over his arms. He sees Adonis looking at him and snaps, “I’m fine! I can carry some fucking towels!”

He stomps off towards the boardwalk, leaving Sakuma to uproot the umbrella and hold it over his head like his customary parasol, and Adonis to hold the cooler.

The next afternoon, Oogami is late to unit practice, so much so that Hakaze’s complaints about missing out on potential dates begin to grate on Adonis, though he does his best to remain polite. When the door finally opens half an hour into the practice slot, relief swells in Adonis’ chest like a balloon, which immediately pops and deflates sadly as Oogami enters, his skin a painful red everywhere Adonis can see, wearing an expression that _dares_ them all to say something.

Sakuma’s face lights up with a grin that shows all his teeth, including the fangs he usually keeps hidden, but all he says is, “It’s good to see you, puppy.”

“Yeah, fuck you too,” Oogami says. He throws his bag onto the floor next to Sakuma’s coffin and stands next to it. Adonis has to look away from his red arms.

“Well,” Hakaze says, his voice shaking like he’s suppressing a laugh, “I guess we’re not having practice, huh?”

“What’s that mean?” Oogami snaps immediately.

“Since you’re,” Hakaze gestures, “su~per sunburned.”

Adonis can practically _see_ Oogami’s metaphorical anger meter fill to the top as he draws himself up to his full height. “Oh yeah? You think a little sunburn will stop me from practicing?”

“Yeah,” says Hakaze. “Like, if I touched your shoulder right now, wouldn’t you just shrivel up?”

Oogami’s face is growing redder. Sakuma, looking reluctant, gets to his feet. “Kaoru-kun, will you come and grab our new equipment with me? I believe we have an amp waiting for us in the school store.”

“Yeah, you fucking run,” Oogami breathes.

Sakuma lowers his hand onto Oogami’s shoulder and gives it a firm pat. As predicted, Oogami’s whole face contorts in pain. Sakuma looks satisfied as he moves towards the door. “Come, come, Kaoru-kun. Ah, Adonis-kun, if you’ll take a look in my coffin, I left a little something you might find of use.”

Adonis starts at the sound of his name, but Sakuma just nods in response to Adonis’ questioning look, and whisks Hakaze out of the room with a firm grip on his arm.

“I hate them both! Assholes! God! He’s not fucking allowed to touch me like that!” Oogami fumes, kicking at Sakuma’s coffin.

It doesn’t hurt to look inside. Adonis bends down next to it and lifts the lid. Inside he finds a bottle of aloe vera gel, with a piece of tape stuck over the bottle’s label, on which is written “Sunburn Relief” in Sakuma’s nearly indecipherable scrawl.

“What’s his _gift_ for you, huh?” Oogami squats next to Adonis, and neither of them acknowledge how badly he winces at the movement. “Oh, that’s—” His face twists. “That fucking vampire bastard, I’m going to kick his ass...”

Adonis picks up the bottle and pops off the cap. “Would you like help putting it on?”

Oogami hesitates. He scans Adonis’ face, eyes narrowed suspiciously; Adonis thinks if he was a dog and not a human, he’d be sniffing Adonis’ hands. Finally, Oogami huffs in defeat and sits down on the floor. “Yeah, if you can get my back, that’d be fuckin’ helpful, actually.”

He begins to remove his shirt, which Adonis realizes quickly is an excruciating process. Oogami’s face screws up in pain as he peels the fabric off his red skin centimeter by centimeter, until his entire upper half is exposed, raw and painful. Adonis almost doesn’t want to touch it, even though he knows the aloe gel will help, but Oogami gives him an irritated look when he realizes Adonis is hesitating.

“Come on, I already took my shirt off,” he snaps, shifting into a more comfortable sitting position.

That is true. Adonis pops the cap on the aloe gel and squeezes some onto his fingers. He’ll have to be gentle, he thinks; his hands aren’t terribly rough, but any sort of touch will feel like a brand with Oogami’s skin how it is. Carefully, he places just his fingertips on Oogami’s shoulder, and begins to smooth the gel over his skin.

Oogami lets out a punched-out breath at the contact. “’S just cold,” he mutters when Adonis’ hand freezes, so Adonis keeps going. He squeezes more gel onto his fingers and carefully rubs it into Oogami’s skin, gradually making his way across the spread of Oogami’s shoulders, then lower down, over his proud shoulderblades, down his spine, to the small of his back, then back up and down his arms, where Oogami’s muscles tense at the contact. Oogami’s skin is hot under Adonis’ touch, and as Adonis works, Oogami exhales tiny reactions - hisses of pain, huffs of frustration. Adonis thinks he’s never been so intimate with Oogami before, maybe because Oogami is never this vulnerable, literally baring his back for Adonis, and Adonis is grateful, even if it has to be under such circumstances.

When Oogami’s back is thoroughly coated in aloe vera gel, Adonis withdraws and offers Oogami the bottle. Oogami blinks up at him, as if coming out of a trance. “What’s this for?”

“I got your back for you,” Adonis tells him. “You can get the rest yourself.”

“Oh...” Oogami takes the bottle, looking unexpectedly disappointed. “Yeah, that’s true, huh.” He squeezes some gel onto his own fingers and begins rubbing it into his chest. Adonis notes that he’s not being as thorough as Adonis himself was on his back, but perhaps only certain parts hurt. Oogami would know his own body best.

“Here, you do it,” Oogami says suddenly, thrusting the bottle into Adonis’ hands. Adonis is so surprised he fumbles it, nearly dropping it into his lap.

“I...do it?”

“Yeah. Get my chest.” Oogami stretches out his arms, appearing nonchalant. “It kinda hurts to move my arms so much, and ya did a good job with my back.”

This doesn’t seem to be the full truth. Still, Adonis shouldn’t refuse a request from a friend and unitmate. “Okay,” he says, and dribbles more gel onto his fingers.

He reaches out and begins spreading the gel across Oogami’s chest. His skin is softer here, and warmer, and Adonis can feel Oogami’s muscles moving under his fingertips as Oogami shifts under the touch. With one hand over Oogami’s heart, Adonis can feel Oogami’s pulse, faster than it ought to be, and he can feel Oogami’s breaths, in and out, shallow and uneven. This closeness outpaces the feeling of rubbing gel into Oogami’s back by far, and Adonis keeps forgetting to breathe. Is it right for him to be doing this, touching another person’s chest, feeling their heartbeat through their skin? Is it okay? Does Oogami want these touches, or is he merely putting up with it? Adonis urges himself to go faster, applying aloe gel to Oogami’s abdomen and sides, and then withdraws his hand, feeling almost sweaty. “It’s done.”

Oogami examines his chest. His skin, still red from the sunburn, now shines faintly from the gel. “Thanks,” he says, flexing carefully. “That actually feels a lot better.”

“Aloe vera is good for sunburn,” Adonis says automatically. He feels as though maybe his head is full of water. “You maybe ought to put your shirt back on, before our senpais come back.”

“Huh? I don’t care about that,” Oogami says, but he reaches for his shirt and begins putting it back on. Adonis caps the aloe bottle carefully and places it back in Sakuma’s coffin.

“That vampire bastard probably needs aloe every time he goes out in the sun,” Oogami huffs, struggling with his shirt. “Bet that’s why he had a bottle on hand.”

“Probably,” Adonis agrees. Now that Oogami’s chest is covered, somehow he feels calmer.

Voices echo in the hall outside, signaling the return of the others, and a moment later Sakuma and Hakaze enter the room, the latter dragging an amp behind him. Sakuma looks pleased to see Oogami and Adonis seated on the floor by his coffin. “Did you find my gift useful?”

“Yes,” Adonis says, as Oogami answers, too, “Yeah, Adonis-kun took real good care of me,” with a grin that makes Adonis’ heart skip a beat.

“Oh?” Sakuma grins, showing his fangs. Adonis feels his face heat up even more. “I’m very happy to hear that.”


	6. natsumika

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> natsumika - "Gazing up at the night sky and pointing out different stars and holding hands and shifting closer to one another"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for charlie! i don't actually know anything about constellations forgive m

As soon as Natsume finishes spreading out the blanket on the grass, Mika sprawls out on it, flopping back and rubbing his cheek against the thick flannel. Natsume sits down beside him, curling his legs up against his chest, and exhales a quiet laugh at the sight of Mika.

“You are even more of a little kitten than I AM,” he teases gently.

Mika rolls onto his back and beams up at Natsume. “’s a nice night, huh?”

Natsume nods, humming to himself as he flattens creases out of the blanket with a brush of his hand. “Can you see the STARS, Mika-kun?”

Above them, the night sky stretches impossibly wide, full of more space than Mika can imagine. He shivers, even though the night is warm. “Uh-huh.”

“I know a lot about stars and constellaTIONS,” Natsume tells him. “If you point one out, I can tell you its stoRY.”

Eager to please, Mika searches the heavens, and immediately points to the brightest star he finds. “What’s that one?”

“That one is the Dog STAR,” Natsume nods. “It’s the brightest STAR. Ah, unlike our own OogamIN, who I would say _isn’t_ the brightest star in the SKY...”

“Mean!” Mika worms around on the blanket, trying to inch closer to Natsume without appearing to do so. He can feel the warmth Natsume radiates even from a foot away.

Watching him wiggle, Natsume’s expression softens. “What are you doING?”

“Tryin’a get comfortable.” Mika takes a deep breath for courage and then discards subtlety altogether, cuddling up against Natsume’s side. He’s warmer than Mika imagined, radiating heat that’s instantly soothing.

Natsume’s cheeks flush a light pink as he watches Mika settle against his side, and he smoothes another crease from the blanket, his hand an inch from Mika’s knee.

“You can ask me MORE, you know.”

“Oh!” Mika had forgotten about the stars. “Uh, what’s that one?” He points randomly upwards, and Natsume follows his finger, squinting.

“Oh,” he says, and his wide eyes reflect the sky above, dark and glittering with faraway light. Mika hears the rest of his words but all he processes is that Natsume’s voice is nice - it’s gotten deeper over the last few months, and he loves the new tenor, the sudden cracks or hoarseness.

“Mika-KUN,” Natsume prompts, and Mika startles.

“Tha’s really cool!” It’s something Natsume knows, so it must be cool. He points again. “What constellation’s that?”

He doesn’t listen to Natsume’s answer, but this time watches the bob of Natsume’s throat and the way his lips move, the tip of his tongue glinting with starlight as he speaks. It’s incredible that one person can know so much, and that he would share it with Mika, and share a blanket too. Mika distantly wonders how he could repay him. Would Natsume like flowers?

“Mika-kun,” Natsume says, and Mika jumps as if shocked. Natsume’s looking down at him with some sort of expression - is that a pout? Was it obvious that Mika wasn’t paying attention?

“‘m sorry,” he says. “I got caught up in your story!”

“Oh...” Natsume hesitates, and Mika sees the hint of a smile on his face. “Well... I didn’t know you were so interested in STARS.”

 _Only some_ , Mika wants to say. Instead, he points upwards in a different direction. “Tell me about that one?”

They continue this pattern. Mika _tries_ to listen, but there’s Natsume’s hair to be considered, looking unfairly soft to the touch, if one were to touch it. And his hands, one resting on the blanket, probably not nearly as sweaty as Mika’s own, and the other held up to trace the constellations as he describes them. And his voice, and his eyes, and... Well, there’s no way the stars could compare, right? Even if Mika was paying attention, no faraway star or made-up story could be better than this storyteller, right?

“Hm...” Natsume says as Mika points absently at another cluster of stars. He taps his chin, and then draws a shape in the air. “These few stars make up the Queen’s CAT. There’s a story about how a queen long ago had a CAT, and it ran away, all the way across the SKY.”

“Ohh...” Mika’s never heard of any constellations that have to do with queens or cats. “That one’s real?”

“Yes, YES.” Natsume shuffles the blanket around, pulling it straight where it’s bunched up under his legs. He doesn’t meet Mika’s eyes as he gestures towards the sky with his free hand. “Ask me anoTHER?”

Obediently, Mika points again. “That’s...”

“Oh, YEAH,” Natsume nods, sitting up straighter as he gestures. “The Old Man’s POT. He, um. Some old guy dropped his pot and they made a constellation out of IT.”

Even though Natsume’s face is turned away, Mika can see the corners of his mouth twitching.

“That’s real?” Mika asks again.

“Oh, absoluteLY,” Natsume says, but he’s definitely grinning now.

“No way! You’re just makin’ it up,” Mika accuses, pointing his finger in Natsume’s face. “I know that one isn’t true!”

But Natsume is laughing, so hard he’s bent double with the force of it. His shoulders shake as he laughs, unable to catch his breath, and Mika can’t help but think it’s adorable, the way his whole body rocks with it. Natsume lifts his head, his cheeks flushed from laughing, and the sight steals Mika’s breath away.

“Nakkun,” he whispers, and he can’t look away.

“You weren’t paying attentION,” Natsume says, and he’s looking at Mika, his voice still trembling with laughter. “I thought I would make them up until you notICED.”

“I was distracted,” Mika insists.

“Oh?” Natsume leans closer, eyes wide. “By WHAT?”

Mika expects the words to catch in his throat, but instead it’s almost easy. “By you.”

Natsume leans down and kisses Mika on the mouth.

It’s like tiny fireworks explode through Mika’s whole body. Natsume’s lips are warm on his, and he tastes like peppermint. They’re only kissing for a second or two before Natsume pulls away, but it’s enough time for Mika to form one whole thought about how perfect this feels, kissing Natsume under the stars.

“Whoa,” he whispers when Natsume pulls away, and puts his fingers to his lips to see if he can feel them tingling.

“Oh, that’s so CUTE,” Natsume laughs, and Mika barely gets to lower his hand before Natsume’s kissing him again, pressing him down into the blanket, his hands cupping Mika’s cheeks.


	7. watarei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> watarei - "one getting home from work later than the other and stretching out on top of them like a big lazy cat ~~while they sit on the couch in front of the tv~~ " (with bonus blood drinking, hence bumping the collection rating up)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for wabby!! happy bday!! i, uh, added blood drinking to your prompt because it's for you. so. you know. enjoy,

Rei loses track of time waiting for Wataru in the light music club room.

Day turns to afternoon turns to evening as the sunlight filtering through the window blinds waxes to lavish yellow and then wanes to pale cream. Around six they lose interest in lying tiredly in their coffin and sit up to use their laptop instead, which is equally tiresome. They could text Wataru and find out where he is, what’s held him up, but surely he’ll appear eventually. There’s no need to rush.

Except that waiting is boring. Perhaps if Rei drags themself to the theater they’ll be rewarded with the sight of Wataru acting, albeit a different Wataru than the one that’ll come curl up next to them and pet their hair by nightfall. Only sometimes Wataru doesn’t allow even Rei into theatre club rehearsals. It might be worth the glimpse of him as he shuts the door on Rei, but then Rei would have to trudge all the way back here, and with no warm Wataru in tow... Truly awful.

Exhausted by the possibilities, they put their laptop away and spread out in their coffin again. They fumble with their phone and put on a jazz album they’d been meaning to listen to, and then set the phone on their chest, where the faint vibrations from the music move through them and quiet jazz fills their small space.

Somewhere they must have dozed off, because when they open their eyes, the jazz has stopped, the room is darker, and there’s a new presence in the room: bright eyes shining above them, watching them as they stir and start to sit up.

“Ah, there’s no need for that,” Wataru says softly. He positions himself above the coffin and carefully transfers himself in on top of Rei. The warmth of his weight sinks into Rei like syrup poured over pancakes. Wataru’s face ends up tucked under Rei’s chin, his hair splattered over Rei’s chest like silvery paint, and he exhales a long breath into Rei’s sternum.

“Long day?” Rei asks, finding it difficult to breathe.

“Yeeeees,” Wataru yawns. “You will not _believe_ the difficulty I’ve had with my first years today. Not Tomoya-kun, but the general course boys, you know?” He’s pressing his face into Rei’s neck as he speaks, which is distracting to say the least. “You know how I have had them doing group exercises. They do not understand the fundamentals of theatre, which is fine. I have other ways of...” Rei loses track of what he’s saying, their attention diverted by Wataru’s cold nose bumping against their throat. They swallow. Is Wataru teasing them on purpose?

“Dear,” they interrupt.

“Rei,” Wataru says pleasantly, as if he had not just been in the middle of unloading about his day.

Rei _sighs_ , and slings their arms around Wataru’s chest, pinning his arms against his sides. They can just reach the top of Wataru’s head if they lift their face and crane a little, and they manage to kiss the top of his head. “Is everything all right?”

“I ought to be asking _you_ ,” Wataru says, as though his face is not _nuzzling_ Rei’s neck as he speaks, “you’re very touchy-feely today, hm? Are you, perhaps...”

“You can just ask me outright if you want a bite,” Rei says. “This is such a silly charade.”

“Are you implying me cuddling you is just a charade?” Wataru lifts his face from Rei’s neck and show them his best puppy dog eyes.

“Very nice,” Rei tells him. “Almost as good as Sakasaki-kun’s. Will you sit up? It would be easier.”

Wataru moves _very_ quickly, apparently throwing subtlety away now that Rei has guessed his intentions. It’s cute, and it never ceases to surprise Rei how much Wataru looks forward to something Rei only views with pain and guilt. They’d never had a partner they were drinking from before this, not that they’d had many partners before Wataru anyway - so it’s nice. They only hope they can make it last.

They cast their gloomy thoughts aside as Wataru settles himself on their lap, combing his long hair to one side so Rei can access his neck on the other. He swallows, something he seems to have learned draws Rei’s attention to his throat, and Rei can sense his pulse quickening in anticipation, which doesn’t help either.

“You are unfair,” Rei murmurs, propping themself up against the cushions at the head of their coffin. Wataru hums and leans forward, his hair falling over Rei like a curtain that hides the two of them away from the rest of the world. Unable to help themself, Rei steals a kiss from Wataru’s lips, then another when Wataru relaxes into it with a soft noise.

“Was theatre club really that taxing today?” Rei asks. They smooth their hands over Wataru’s shoulders and down his back, looking for tense muscles.

“Why do you think I took so many hours to return to your side,” Wataru whispers. “Please, Rei...”

It’s impossible to refuse that. Rei leans forward and presses their lips to the underside of Wataru’s jaw, then trails kisses lower, feeling Wataru’s pulse jump just under his skin. The spot where they usually bite has healed since the last time, so they kiss it gently, and as they hear Wataru exhale shakily - just as Rei taught him, _breathe out first, like getting a shot_ \- they lower their fangs and bite down.

Wataru gasps, his chest filling against Rei’s, and he clutches at Rei’s arms, surely leaving little half-moon marks where his nails dig in. Rei has had enough practice to not be overwhelmed by the frantic flow of blood over their tongue, which is a gift, because now they can focus on Wataru’s reactions, just as delicious as the blood in their mouth. His pulse is increasing, the scent growing more intoxicating by the second, and Rei counts one, two, three mouthfuls and then, like they’ve practiced, disengages, swiping their tongue over the wound to seal it.

They don’t pull away yet, and instead nuzzle against an unharmed spot of Wataru’s neck, mimicking his actions earlier. Wataru lets out a shaky “Ah,” and reaches up to comb his fingers through Rei’s hair.

“Don’t do that, I need to shower,” Rei mumbles. Wataru musses their hair more enthusiastically in response.

“I will stop being needy now,” he says. “I’ve felt on edge all day, and I missed you...”

“That’s nothing you need to apologize for,” Rei insists, face still buried in Wataru’s neck. Wataru’s pulse is slowing, half an aftereffect of the bite and half him truly calming down. Rei rubs his back some more, waiting as Wataru relaxes gradually into their embrace.

“I love you,” Wataru says, his hand still in Rei’s hair.

“I love you too,” Rei answers, and leaves another kiss on Wataru’s throat.


End file.
